


Feelings Aren't a Joke

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Chapter Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Second chapter smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: Chapter 1- Hurt/Comfort with Wilford and DarkChapter 2- Smut with Wilford and DarkTime is confusing for Wilford Warfstache- he doesn't experience it in a linear fashion, and sometimes memories get a bit jumbled. Sometimes he thinks people are someone else, and Dark doesn't have the patience for it today. Feelings are shared and things get better.





	1. Hurt/Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Request from my tumblr @d-ama-ien

“Leave me alone, Wilford,” Dark’s growl is low, a clear threat. Wilford isn’t bothered, he’s one of few egos that Dark wouldn’t lay a hand on. They were old friends after all, in some other time. A time that Wil seems to believe is now.

“I don’t see why you’re calling me that, Damien, we’re close enough I think you should know my name,” Dark tries to be understanding, he knows Wil’s mind isn’t wired correctly, sometimes the times get crossed. He dug up that cane from somewhere, probably what set him off.

“I do know your name. It’s Wilford now, that’s the only name you’ve used for years,” Actually using the name “William” was something he had learned to avoid. It seemed to set something violent off. Dark’s patience was wearing thin, he didn’t have time to travel through the land mines of Wilford’s head.

“Damien, really now. Stop joking!” Dark slams his hand on the desk, sharply glaring at the other man, who looks confused. Damien wasn’t known for his outbursts after all.

“Not everything is a joke, _Wilford_ , and my name _is not_ Damien,”

“Come now, drop the act Damien-”

“ _That is not my name_!” Dark stands, leering at Wilford. The room is ringing, Dark’s shell has fully cracked to reveal the rage flowing through him. “I am not Damien, he died years ago, along with Celine, and everyone else in that goddamn house. You’re nothing but an idiot who’s stuck in the past that he killed in the first place. Do you understand that? It’s _your fault_ that Damien and everyone else is dead! They aren’t coming back, drop the fucking cane and get your head on straight. I’m not going to speak to a man with his head _stuck in his ass_ ,”

Dark knew he was needlessly cruel- he could see the heartbreak in his friend’s eyes as he stalked from the room. His pride wouldn’t let him turn around, wouldn’t let him throw himself to Wilford’s feet and beg for forgiveness. So he just left.

Wilford was in shock- he remembered the time he was in now, the stress of the outburst seemed to knock something into place. Or out of place, the disconnect between his memories of Damien and the way Dark was acting. Either way, he was in his right frame of mind, and he was hurt, the physical, choking pain, like the moment he realized that Damien was gone the first time. Dark had been gentler then, taking care of Wilford’s delicate psyche. Dark’s cool fingers had pried Wilford’s hand off of the cane, urging him to relax the death grip he had on it. That same cane dropped from his trembling hands, clattered as it landed on the ground. Wil’s knees gave out, and his body followed suit, he dropped to his knees as tears openly fell.

The pain came from the truth behind Dark’s words- it _was_ his fault, according to a distant rational voice in his head. He was crazy and stuck in the past, and _stupid_. His ideas didn’t work, his habits were a nuisance to the others, and he only got in the way when his brain picked up a different current. “I’m a fucking idiot,”

“The Host respectfully disagrees. There is a difference between crazy and stupid,” Of course Dark hadn’t even closed the door behind him, so Wilford just had a breakdown in plain view of any passerby. It was stupid of him to let his guard down. “It’s not stupid to have emotions,”

“Stay out of my head,”

“The Host apologizes, but it’s rare your head is so quiet. The Host can’t recall being able to read you before. The Host will leave you alone if that’s what you would like,”

“It is what I would like,” Host exits the room without pause, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Wilford drops his head into his hands, letting the emotions consume him for a while.

_________________

“The Host believes, with all possible respect, that you fucked up,” Dark glowers at the doorway, though he knows the other ego can’t actually see the look.

“Generally a shut door indicates a desire for privacy,”

“Generally being an ass warrants an apology, but Dark is not following that rule, so Host will not follow the shut door rule,”

“You piss me off,”

“Everyone does, that isn't anything special. Being pissed off is not an excuse for how Dark handled Wilford. He is sensitive, but he is important,”

“I know he’s important to our plans-”

“That is not what Host meant.” Dark sometimes suspects the reason Host lost his eyes was from rolling them so often, his statement has the clear vibe of a verbal eyeroll.

“I don’t need your analysis, Host.”

“Dark also does not need to push everyone away. Host hopes he recognizes how important Wilford is to him and rights his wrongs,” The Host walks away then, annoyingly leaving the door open. The Host is honestly one of the more annoying egos, his abilities weren’t clearly defined so he can do anything from reading minds to controlling people. And he has the most insufferable attitude, bled over from his old persona. Dark sighs and cracks his neck as he rises to shut the door. He pauses as he reaches the door, considering the Host’s words. He knew the Host was largely correct- he did need to right his wrongs against Wil. Wilford _was_ important, yes to the plans, but also to _him_. He really needed to figure out how to apologize to the man.

___________________

Wilford was not doing well. That was an extreme understatement, but he tried to be one for optimism. He just couldn’t see what he could do to be better. It was all his fault these things happened to him, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He was just destined to ruin everything he touched, a poison to those he cared for. A poison to _everyone_.

There was a dull ache in Wilford’s gut as he realized how horrible it was to be human poison. He _killed people_ , he stabbed and shot his way into pain, into this emotional hell. He didn’t respond to any knocks on the door, to any concerned words a brave ego would speak through the wood. He just stared, barely focused on the cane lying on the ground before him. Damien’s cane, a treasured possession that his friend was never without, even after recovering from the injury that necessitated the thing. Wil missed Damien, the ache of loneliness throbbed with his heartbeat. But he had come to care for Dark so deeply, he may have even started to love the man. Dark had always been respectful, distant, but he was visibly softer with Wil than with anyone else. Wilford had begun to think that meant something.

His mistake.

He chuckled bitterly as he finally sat up and wiped at the tears that had been falling from his eyes. He paused before he picked up the cane, halted by a knock at the door. Wil ignored the sound, figuring that it was just one of the egos trying to be helpful again. If he waited a minute, they would surely leave-

“Wilford,”

Or not. It was Dark’s voice. The man, while not known for his patience, was known for being stubborn as shit.

“May I speak to you?”

“Not sure I’m in the mood to see you, Dark,” Wil’s voice was sharper then he intended, but he hoped it would get the other man to leave him alone.

“I’d really like to speak with you, but if you want me to leave I will,” It was rare for Dark to back off when he wanted something, the willingness to respect Wil’s boundaries had his anger melting a bit.

“Come in then,” Wilford can’t help the way he flinches a bit when he sees Dark, but he can’t tell if Dark noticed or not. Dark crosses the room slowly but does not intrude into WIlford’s space.

“I owe you an apology, Wilford. I owe you so much more than that because I was completely out of line. You’re not stupid, and you’re not responsible for every bad thing that has happened. I took out my irritation in a highly personal way, and there’s no excuse for it. I do hope that you’ll find a way to forgive me- forgive us. I’m not a singularity and the ones who make me up care for you deeply as well. I’m the real idiot here, for not noticing our feelings and acting on them properly,”

“You’re not an idiot for having emotions,” Wil says with a cheerful smile, throwing his arms around the surprised Dark. The other man wraps his arms around Wilford slowly, as if he’s afraid of the other man pulling away and rejecting him. The rejection never comes, and the two just hold each other tightly. “I’m sorry for calling you Damien. I cared deeply for him, and for Celine, but I know they’re not you. You’re you, and that’s even better.”

Dark flushes, and is grateful the other ego can’t see his face to know it. It’s rare for him to feel so vulnerable, but he realizes how deeply he trusts WIlford and feels comfortable sharing his emotions.

“I care for you deeply, Wilford. I am truly sorry that I hurt you,” Wilford pulls away with a broad grin on his face.

“I care for you too Dark,” Dark can’t help himself, he presses a kiss to Wilford’s lips, pulling away with a surprisingly red blush. “I apologize, this may not be the best time-”

“No better time than the present, my dear Dark,” Wilford replies, pulling Dark into a drawn out kiss. Wilford was still hesitant, as if afraid of the other man not being real underneath his touches. With the state of Wilford’s mind, it was probably a valid fear. Who knows how often he sees and feels things that aren’t really there?

But for now, he feels confident of how solid Dark feels, of the strange coolness of the other man’s touch, of the heat burning underneath his own skin, and he feels secure.


	2. Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No plot here, just sex

Wilford hadn’t realised how much he had longed for Dark’s touch in this way, the soft intimacy overwhelming him. His hands moved leisurely down Dark’s arms, appreciating the feeling of his arm muscles underneath the surprisingly soft material of the suit jacket the other man wore. Wilford could feel Dark’s cool hands traveling down his back, pressing firmly as if he was trying to anchor himself. Dark’s lips were firm and cool against Wil’s, different and new and familiar all at once.

Wil breaks away suddenly, lust deep in his eyes, and he speaks with a low voice, “I’m not exactly sure what we’re going to be after this, but right now I need you,”

Dark, for once, doesn’t look smug at a profession of need. He’s feeling a stir of lust instead of just performing for whoever he’s trying to manipulate. The room lurches violently, and then the two are in Wilford’s bedroom. Dark briefly contemplates how useful Wilford’s issues with reality would be if the man cared enough to hone the ability, but he’s soon distracted by his companion pulling him into a heated kiss.

Dark dominates the embrace easily, but he’s certain that if Wil wanted to, he could easily take control. It seems as though the other man is content to let Dark take the lead, and Dark is more than happy to fill that role. Dark has mastered manipulation on a mental and physical level, but he doesn’t want to use that on Wilford. Instead, he finds what makes Wilford ticks with light touches, and different movement of his tongue, remembering every response until Wilford is reduced to a groaning mess under his hands. Dark can’t help but feel a bit smug about that until Wilford suddenly turns the table and shoves Dark into the wall. He turns all of Dark’s moves back on him, controlled touches that keep Dark from trying to resist.

Wilford pushes Dark’s suit jacket off of his shoulders, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. Dark begins to protest the treatment of his clothes but is cut off when Wilford violently yanks on his tie. As soon as the tie is out of the way the buttons of his shirt are coming undone, with Wilford’s mouth leaving his mouth to bite at the freshly exposed skin. Dark tilts his head back, letting Wilford mark his neck freely. His groans are animalistic, deeply reverberating throughout his chest. Wilford seems to lose patience with his shirt then, he ends up ripping it open, much to Dark’s displeasure. He doesn't look too keen on complaining when Wilford attaches his lips to Dark’s collar bone.

Dark surprises Wilford with a high pitched whine, responding to Wilford grabbing his length through his slacks. Wil is shocked by how responsive Dark is under his touches, despite being a handsy talker the man is exceptionally talented at making every movement seem under control. He’s let that skill fly to the wayside, instead showing real responses to each of Wilford’s actions. His long time companion knows all the right buttons to push to reduce him to a horny mess, but he gets enough control to pull Wilford away.

“This should be about you, I want to make it up to you-”

“Make it up to me by letting me fuck that ass,” Wilford growls in response, hastily yanking Dark’s pants and underwear down to expose his embarrassingly hard cock. He hisses at the sudden sensation of his cock being roughly grabbed, but no longer complains at Wilford taking control.

“Get on the bed, Dark,” Wilford orders, pulling away suddenly. Dark hastens to comply, briefly stumbling to kick his pants off fully, taking his socks and shoes with them. He sits on the edge, unsure how his partner will want him. He enjoys watching Wilford strip, leisurely undoing his suspenders and bow tie. He’s clearly taking his time to tease Dark, spending minutes on each button of his shirt until Dark is groaning with impatience. Wilford just smirks, continuing the slow display. He pauses at his belt, walking over to Dark instead of undoing it himself.

“Do the honors?” He suggests in a joking tone that has a deeper undercurrent. Dark doesn’t think to refuse or tease, just removing the belt as quickly as possible without warping reality. He undoes the buttons and zipper of Wilford’s slacks, hastily shoving them off of his hips. His bulge is obvious through his bright pink undergarments, Dark leans forward slowly, starting to mouth at Wil’s clothed dick, boldly making direct eye contact with his partner. Wilford winds his hand through Dark’s hair pulling him away. “As much as I love what you’re getting at, I just want to fuck you, now. Need any prep?”

“No,” with that one word Dark was being shoved back onto the bed, laying, so his legs still dangled over the edge. Dark honestly could use some prep- at least some lube, more than the spit that Wil was currently rubbing onto hi cock- but today he felt like he deserved the pain. A small price to pay for the pain he had caused Wil.

Dark flinched the slightest bit when Wil’s cockhead teased his hole, but his body was controlled enough that he didn’t tense up. Wil entered him slowly, considerate of the fact that Dark hadn’t gotten any stretching. Dark hissed as the burn hit him, but his toes also curled from the pleasure. His pain and pleasure receptors were slightly fucked up, he lived in a broken body after all. A change from the usual aches was welcome, whether the difference is a new pain or a type of pleasure. In this case, both.

While Wilford wanted to be considerate of Dark, he also wanted relief from the constant squeeze of Dark’s ass. He rocked his hips slowly, testing the other’s limits. Dark moaned in response, clenching around Wilford’s cock. Wil took it as a sign that the man was ready enough, and started to thrust with a bit more intent. Dark threw his head back, pressing it into the bed, so his spine curled. He wrapped his legs around Wil’s waist, squeezing tightly. The sensation was overwhelming, partly because of the emotions and partly because Wil was just at the right angle to brush Dark’s prostate with each thrust and fuck, it felt good. Wilford didn’t seem to be in the sentimental mood, not bothering to make their first time that of long time lovers, but more like a dirty fuck brewed from sexual frustrations and too much to drink. It was more suited to their personality like that anyways, the act being debased and filthy. It was not a culmination of love, but rather, two men seeking comfort in each other’s bodies. The room was loud with the sound of skin hitting skin, gasping breaths and moans from both men. Wil was worked up, frustrated, emotionally drained, he fucked everything he was feeling straight into Dark, forcing Dark to take every painfully hard thrust without complaint.

“Wil,” Dark chokes out between gasps, “Please, I’m, I’m so close,”

“You wait, you get relief when I say,” Wil snarls in response, the more violent instincts taking over at this point. His pace was brutal, causing Dark’s voice to break on a sob. He was glad to see tears on Dark’s face, there was some part inside of him not as forgiving as the rest of him. This part was delighted to know he was on top, and that Dark was _hurting_ and that he was _loving it_. The rest of him just wanted to release, and then he’d treat Dark better, and they’d make up properly.

For the present, they fucked, Dark sobbing and growling like an animal in heat.

“I’m close, doll,” Wilford gasped out, thrusting more erratically but no less brutal. After a few thrusts, he buried himself inside of Dark, stilling as his orgasm wrecked his body. Dark felt Wilford’s release inside of him and grimaced a bit at the sensation. Wil stayed buried inside of him, not moving his body even after he recovered from his release. He wrapped a hand around Dark’s neglected cock, the stimulation quickly bringing him to his own orgasm. He was so pleased from the post-orgasm haze that he didn’t even feel disgusted at his state of being covered in and filled with cum.

“Think we’re even, old friend?” Wilford questions as he pulls out of Dark, suddenly having a damp wash cloth that he began using to clean himself off with.

“I think so.”


End file.
